Monster Men and Madness
by MirroringShadows
Summary: Lynn's grandfather told her the craziest stories. But growing animals and invisiblity can't actually be real...right?


Lynn had her reasons for wanting her own bedroom. The main reason was that sharing with her sister never let her get any sleep. Jessie was two years younger than Lynn in age but a million years younger in maturity. She loved prodding her sister awake in the middle of the night to produce a fake burp and start laughing hysterically. She sometimes woke Lynn up by yelling, "DARCY, THE CABBAGE!" or something equally random in her sleep. She sleepwalked, and had once managed to pull Lynn's hair without even waking up. But worst of all, she had a habit of conducting one-sided conversations until twelve o'clock every night. Jessie was Lynn's monster under her bed and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Hey."

The call was expected, but Lynn tried to ignore it. She curled up under her blanket and pulled her pillow over her ears.

"Hey!"

Lynn groaned inwardly, but refused to reply. It was Sunday night and she had a habit of waking up too late on Mondays, a habit that Jessie didn't help.

"HEY! LYNN! LYNNETTA MARIA CARLING!"

"_What_?" Lynn threw back her sheets and peered over the side of her bunk bed. Jessie was lying in the bottom bunk, an infuriating grin spread over her face. "I just remembered something!" she clapped her hands together in excitement. _Oh God._ If something excited Jessie, it had to be pointless and stupid. "I remembered the stories Grandpa used to tell us!" she giggled. Lynn bit back her pre-prepared sarcastic retort. Huh. That memory hadn't been expected. "Remember how Dad used to say he was crazy?" Jessie sighed in a reminiscing way, "And then Mom would get all annoyed and say he was just imaginative? Ah, those were the good ol' days..."

"You sound like an old woman," Lynn remarked, pulling herself back up on to her bed. She could hear Jessie start to sing nursery rhymes, but she tuned her out. She remembered Grandpa's stories pretty well, even though Grandpa himself had died years ago. He _had_ sounded kind of crazy, but in a good way. Lynn smiled, recalling her favorite story. She'd always begged for Grandpa to tell it to her every time he'd visited. He'd act reluctant at first, but she would stay persistent until he bowed to her pleading. The story always started the same way. "Once there was a good man who'd done some bad things. Because of those bad things he'd done, he thought he was a bad person. And because he thought he was a bad person, he decided to work for bad people."

"What sort of people?" Lynn would always ask on queue.

"Evil people," Grandpa would reply solemnly, "Monsters, who would even harm children to get what they wanted."

If Mom was there, she'd say, "Don't scare her, she'd still little."

Grandpa would nod obediently, but as soon as she was out of sight, he'd lean forward again. "One of the villains was a big, mean man who could do scary magic. He wanted to capture some kids and use them for his own plan. To do this, he took the good man who thought he was bad to a museum." The story continued with wild concepts about planting the teeth of dead animals to bring them back to life. Grandpa would do an impression of the monster man yelling at one of his minions for bringing him kitten bones. It had never failed to make Lynn giggle. The story ended with a boy appearing from thin air to prevent the monster man from capturing his friends. "And, believe it or not, that's a true story," Grandpa would insist, "I am the good man who thought he was bad and I did work for a monster."

Lynn had never been sure how much to believe. She still wasn't. The sensible part of her scoffed at the tale. _Dad was right about Grandpa being a little weird in the head. Growing animals? Invisible boys? Please!_ But there was another part of her, an irrational part, that wondered whether Grandpa really had been telling the truth. Jessie's favorite story had been one about Grandpa going mental and thinking he was a dog while pursuing the boy who'd foiled the monster's plot. Lynn didn't know anyone who was mad, but the way Grandpa had described the experience sounded too realistic to be made up.

"He smelled wine in the air and there was a loud snapping noise," Jessie suddenly piped up from below, "The wine thing was a good touch, if you ask me. The whole story was cool. I bet Grandpa could've published it and become famous."

"Do you think it was real?" Lynn called.  
"Of course not. I'm not _that_ crazy. But what if it was real, huh? That would've been awesome. I would've tracked down that boy and asked him how he made everyone go crazy. That would be a cool power to have, don't you think? Whenever you were annoying me, I could just snap and presto! You'd be barking and grabbing pencils for bones."

"_Me_, annoying _you_?" Lynn sat up at the absurdity of the idea, "When have _I_ ever-"

"Lynn, is that you?" Mom suddenly popped her head through the doorway, "Why are you still up? It's eleven thirty! Get to bed."

Of _course_ she'd only come in when _Lynn_ was talking. Lynn turned over with an irritated sigh, but she didn't stew over the injustice of it all like she usually would have. There was too much impossible in her mind at the moment. And when she drifted off to sleep, it still lingered, lacing her dreams with wine and tiger-kittens.

It was all crazy, but, like Grandpa, it was crazy in a good way.


End file.
